Pull of the Song
by Fiona Fargazer
Summary: Bofur decides to go on Thorin's Quest for Erebor and tries to convince his relatives to come with.


JMJ

_NOTE: Just a little thing based off of some stuff my sis and I made up. Mixture of the book and movies, though the only major noticeable difference from the movies is that Bifur doesn't have that axe in his head and speaks with a personality mostly made up by my sister since he has no real personality in the book except that he likes cake! Yay, cake! Hope you enjoy._

Everyone knew the song. _The_ song, some had come to know it as, especially from those who had come to the Blue Mountains from Erebor and the one terrible night upon which Smaug had descended upon them, a dark plague from the North. Yet for those young enough to remember not a time when those mysterious Dwarves of the direct line of Durin did not dwell among them, it held an enchantment upon them.

In the case of Bofur; though he could remember when the last of the Erebor refugees had followed their leaders from Dunland to this home, he had been enchanted more than many. His father and mother both held strong onto the generations' old memory of their magnificent realm of Khazad-dûm, and this may have been a cause for some of his wonderment at a case of similar nature involving that same line of Durin which had ruled that legendary mountain. But a stronger cause for it truly was his own personality, for neither his cousins nor his own brother felt quite as drawn to the story of that dragon taking Erebor and that one day the folk of Durin would take it back again. He had the energy and the mind to go slay that dragon since a very early age. Many a free afternoon had left a young Bofur to mighty axe with Bombur at one side and Bifur on the other (and sometimes his other cousin Brimur) to chopping the head off of that might beast then made of old coal sacks and sometimes bedding stuffed and proper to resemble something of a dragon. Until of course it truly dawned upon him that old Smaug's head could not be chopped off and that his scales could block the mightiest of axes and the most agile of spears alike. The fact that their make-believe dragon was hardly as big as Smaug's great paw did not help matters any, but he would think of other clever ways of destroying it then, such as washing out its fire with a bucket of water, or bringing an avalanche of stone upon its head.

With all this in mind it should come as no surprise to see how those emerald eyes lit up with green fire when Bofur heard Thorin's invitation one day for anyone of the friends and family of Durin's line in the Blue Mountains to come with him to retrieve that grand old gold and reclaim Erebor. Thorin's words burned to the core, inflaming him with full desire to drop pick, rope, and the future of the Blue Mountains' mines altogether right then and there to follow the heir of Durin East.

He was no dreamer. When something came into Bofur's mind he did not sit thinking about it, he did it, and with all the strength and heart he had! So he would in this case above all others.

Besides!" Bofur laughed when speaking of it later when all had been done at the end of their journey years afterward. "What Dwarf could've resisted those words of passion in that strong clear voice of Thorin's, how he described the great halls and bridges, the blue-green ethereal glow that held all, the mighty stone kings which stood so tall and guard now what they could from that undeserving, reviled red terror? And even if one could resist that how could one resist the description of the hall of treasure, where gold fell like water, and jewels and diamonds as common as iron and steel and the craft they make with all these things that shone with the brilliance of the stars and the magnificence of sun and moon? Quite the motivational speaker that Thorin, and he had a lot to go on as well!"

As for the moment, however, as soon as it passed through Thorin's lips that anyone who wished to join the company would speak to Balin first, Bofur's eyes clasped onto the old, famous warrior and candid figure of the Dwarf known by this name and leapt to his feet.

"I volunteer! I will go!" Bofur announced.

Bounding up to Balin so hard that he had to catch his hat from falling off, he stopped with neat grace in contrast. He bowed with full respect to Thorin and to Balin each.

"Bofur, most fully and sincerely at your service, my good lords!" said Bofur

At first neither said anything in reply, but Balin with a knowing look in his eyes, turned to Thorin with an assuring nod as if to say that the recruitment would be a great success if Bofur would be the first of many to come with such eagerness for their cause.

"Of course we accept your service!" said Balin full of good nature as he handed Bofur the pen and the ink and, of course, the paper to sign.

Bofur, as skilled a hand as he possessed in craft and carving and twisting metal springs and molding gears, had a rather unmanageable signature. And in his excitement as he wrote the runic letters of his race, not one letter could be distinguished from another, and rune letters were not meant to be strung like dried up, thorny vines. It mattered not. The signature was fully accepted, and with another grand smile, Balin welcomed the younger Dwarf into the company.

"You're known well from the mines," he said. "A quick wit, a quick foot, and a strong stable arm, all will be most valued on this quest."

"Indeed," agreed Thorin. "We can only hope the rest of the recruits will have the vigor you have."

"Oh, I don't think you'll be having to worry much about that, sir!" exclaimed Bofur. "There's many a strong arm and a vigorous ethic where I came from."

"We'll see," said Thorin, who although looked just about as pleased as Balin had his usual melancholic flavor lurking behind his voice and in the corner of his eyes.

He too was already at Erebor, but in a much different way than Bofur.

"Oh, sure!" Bofur went on. "In fact I know right off hand that my brother would be more than happy to come too, and he'd be as great an asset as any to your company."

"Will he come?" asked Balin with a raised brow.

"I've no doubt of it!" Bofur said. "He'll be just as eager to hear that you'll be starting off soon."

"Alright," said Balin, "that'll make nine if you get him with Oin and Gloin already with us." Though he spoke to Bofur, his eyes were on Thorin again for reassurance. "So far so good."

Thorin nodded.

Thus departed Bofur with one last bow to the great King under the Mountain and heir of Durin, and one more smaller in nature but no less respectful to Balin, he promised to return shortly with Bombur.

Their pleasure faded however as they looked around once Bofur disappeared. For aside from Bofur, they had to admit that no one else Thorin had set forth his passionate speech to had given their hand to the cause. Well-wishes and offerings of luck were bestowed in plenty, yes, but one could easily see the doubt in their eyes that anyone who went with Thorin would return as anything but piles of ash on the eastern wind.

Bofur, still in mighty spirits, found Bombur soon enough in the middle of the work right then and there of working out gears and coils of springs. These would soon become the toys which he sold in Bree, for in truth Bombur had no love of the hard labor of the mines, especially after getting stuck in a shaft once, which had made up his mind to keep to his favored work at which he was quite an expert. And he quite prided himself in the piece on which he worked with a slim magnifying glass dropped over one eye on a band around his head, a tweezers with which he made a few minor adjustments in the inner working of the toy, the toy itself he held up above his head with great satisfaction.

"You're joking," said Bombur when Bofur told him the wonderful news. He did not sound in the least overjoyed, but eyed Bofur with grave suspicion as he set the toy back on the table.

"Not a bit!" exclaimed Bofur. "Never joke about fighting dragons! And as a person who often travels about — you go from the Blue Mountains to Bree on nearly a weekly basis—"

"You come often enough," Bombur interrupted.

"When I can get myself away from the mines, too true, but this is bigger than mining for iron and steel."

"I know," said Bombur mildly and with a touch a dryness.

Reaching into his pouch at his belt, Bofur pulled out a golden coin, and held it up before his brother.

"See this?" he said. "Think of a tree. Then imagine every leaf on that tree is a gold coin, and then multiply that tree with ten, twenty, thirty, and up! That's what awaits us at the other end of the Wild!"

"Well, I do like gold," said Bombur.

"Of course you do!" Bofur exclaimed as he placed the coin into his pouch once more before patting his brother on the shoulder.

Bombur opened his mouth to say the negative side of this proposed adventure however, yet before he could utter so much as a syllable Bofur spoke again and told it for him, and Bombur as much as he loved his brother could only shake his head at that never stopping mouth.

"But I won't have you deceived," said Bofur. "Smaug's the most terrible of all dragons of the Third Age. Taller than the trees of Fangorn, no question. Claws like meat hooks the size of a Man, and teeth like chiseled diamonds maybe just as big as the claws, but of course neither tooth nor claw would touch you before the breath of lava's deep steam whips you through, leaving you burnt to a crisp on the spot."

"Are you trying to convince me to _come_, Bofur?" asked Bombur squinting at the red paint with which had had been moving too use for the toy's waistcoat through Bofur's colorful description of Smaug.

"Aye!" said Bofur with a grin. "I just needed that said first, but just think of what heroes that'll make us for defeating it."

"Bofur …"

"Or even better! Think of the satisfaction of being like our fathers fighting for our people! And for the great line of Durin to return to the throne!"

"I …"

"Or better still," teased Bofur. "Think of the gold! We'll be as rich as kings when we're through. Everyone gets a share."

"Bofur …"

"And afterwards, the feasting, the clanking of hefty mugs with a cause for toast, and the music and the jubilation!" exclaimed Bofur. "Don't forget all that!"

"What if we don't make it?"

"And what if we do?" Bofur demanded. "We can't live our lives without some risk."

"Good point," said Bombur.

"Think of Khazad-dûm."

"That's the one main thing that makes me not so sure I want to come," Bombur admitted. He paused. "But …"

"Just keep thinking of the prize at the end of the race," said Bofur, his eyes shining as they looked eastward, and Bombur knew just by looking at Bofur that the adventure was half the fun in Bofur's mind; though the end (if they defeated the dragon) would be what would make it all worth it by the end.

"I'm not saying 'no', and I'm not saying 'yes', just yet, but do you remember that time you dragged Bifur and me to that stream going through that one side cave past the mines?"

"Yes," said Bofur a little uncomfortable.

"And Bifur almost drowned when you made us cross that bridge we put together and it broke?"

Bofur hesitated.

"We were only lads then," Bofur pointed out. "And we did get him out before anything truly bad happened to him."

"Aye," agreed Bombur, and moved back to the red paint. "I want to go, Bofur. I really do, but—"

Bofur did not let him finish but set out to find Balin again.

"Take it seriously, Bofur," Bombur grumbled even though Bofur was long gone. With a final shake of his head he went back to work.

At first finding Balin proved it rather difficult. He wasn't in his quarters, and he was not in any of the main meeting halls, or getting supplies from the chambers of inventory. Rubbing his beard thoughtfully, Bofur mused in the middle of the hallway a moment, and then upon turning he ran right into none other than Dwalin, nearly face first into his broad and mighty chest.

Both were quite in a start; though Dwalin recovered quicker and watched Bofur as he readjusted his floppy hat upon his head.

"Ah, excuse me, sir," said Bofur.

"Think nothing of it," muttered Dwalin in a low voice, though he looked more amused than annoyed.

"You wouldn't mind my asking? Where has your brother got himself to?"

"Just behind me," Dwalin laughed. "Why? Are you crazy enough to join us?"

Bofur cleared his throat. "Well, as a matter of fact I am, but—" Then Balin came into view. "Ah, Balin, sir! There you are. You make yourself difficult to find."

Balin looked just about as amused as his brother. Having nodded for Dwalin to go up ahead, Balin turned to Bofur and asked what he needed.

"Has _your_ brother decided to join us?" asked Balin.

"Oh, aye! Bombur's ready," said Bofur.

"Well, then!" exclaimed Balin in a merry tone as he reached for a sheet of parchment. "Have Bombur sign here and have him make sure to read it carefully over first. Then that'll have us eleven."

"Ah, good! So I wasn't the only one to sign up, after all," Bofur said.

"The other two, I had a feeling would come," said Balin. "If Dori and Nori's father lived to this day, he would have, I've not a doubt in my mind. Orm had never forgotten our homeland and never felt at all satisfied with life in Dunland or the Blue Mountains. I ken he never would've let his sons forget his rage."

"All's the more for vigor then, aye?" laughed Bofur.

Balin smiled but did not share the mirth in quite the same way.

"So I'll go get my cousin Bifur," said Bofur. "I'm sure he'll be coming. Make it an even dozen?"

"Well, we were hoping to get more than twelve," said Balin. "Twenty was more the number Thorin had in mind."

"There's still time then," said Bofur with a wink.

And off he went again in search for his cousin Bifur. He did not catch sight of him however until work in the mines called him.

Deep in the dark chasms of the earth, the ancient mines of the Blue Mountains stretched, a long trench, for a long way right through middle of that range. The ancient inhabitants of the range, though long gone had dug up most of the finer treasures Erid Luin had once offered in its veins, but now there could be streaks when even steel and iron proved difficult to get a hold of. Though, it would make up for it with the occasional spring of gold now and again. The Dwarves had to work very hard to get this gold, and work they did. Bofur had no problem with work. He worked with quite a merry rhythm the day long, and the steady clank of pickaxe and mattock was as the beat of his own heart.

Until today of course.

Calling out to Bifur, Bofur made his way beside him.

Bifur's work ethic though quite the same as Bofur's even if not shown as externally, while he looked up at his cousin's approach, his arm did not waver much from its rhythmic clanking of steal into stone.

"Is it about Thorin's company?" he asked, working away with pick and keeping feet firmly wedged in place to keep him steady upon his rope line.

Bofur smiled. "I knew you couldn't resist!"

Bifur sighed with uncertainty. "I do admire Thorin Oakenshield."

"Who doesn't?" asked Bofur. "Commanding figure, and helped make us more prosperous and all that."

"Aye," agreed Bifur.

Bifur faced his work again.

"So you're going?" asked Bofur.

A sort of grunt escaped his cousin, though it proved difficult to tell whether it had been caused by mere work, whether in the affirmative to Bofur's question, or in the negative to it.

"I understand if you aren't," Bofur said, looking quite deflated by the idea regardless. "The dragon is fierce, after all. Every dragon is, but just think if we do succeed. Mining would be almost too easy there, and the horde already there will be beyond count. See!" And here Bofur pulled the coin out from his belt pouch in spite of himself.

I say "in spite", because he had promised himself he would not talk Bifur into going if he did not want to, for Bifur was more easily swayed than most Dwarves, and especially when it came to how bright and full of wonder Bofur made the world so that Bifur, a bit of dreamer, could not resist. But Bofur could not contain himself, and if there was one thing he could not control, it happened to be himself.

"Imagine this as a leaf," he said, "and part of a tree of so many others like it. Then multiply that tree to thirty, fifty, maybe more just like it!"

"Well, I think," said Bifur after a long pause to think with Bofur waiting with as much patience as he could muster. "I always wanted to go." He paused once more before going on. "And besides. I should think I would not like being left behind if you and Bombur went." Such was the simplicity of his usual manner of speaking.

Bofur smiled with affection and patted him on the shoulder. "And I don't think I would like it much without you by my side. We're family, right? I heartily agree!"

Again Bofur after work sought for Balin, and this time he found him trying to talk some of his kin into coming that did not want to.

"We wish you all the best of luck," the other was saying to Balin, and he looked as near in age to the old Dwarf. "I know Thorin Oakenshield as the son of the king and heir to the throne will never cease to burn for Erebor until he has got it, but I'm afraid most of us will not join you. We still have not recuperated in number since our losses from the dragon and the _many_ more, the Burned Ones, at the foot of the gates of Khazad-dûm upon King Thror's dream to reclaim our ancient city if we could not have Erebor. We cannot afford at this time to lose any more of our kin. Perhaps when our numbers our strengthened would prove far better."

"I don't think numbers in warfare matter against Smaug," said Balin. "Skill and wit is what we need to defeat that terror."

But the others would hear no more of it.

"I understand," were Balin's final words upon the subject.

And he looked sincere, though the disappointment, and even a little anger showed well upon his face.

"Good night," he said, perhaps a little terser than he had meant it, but as he departed he had not gone far when he ran into Bofur again.

"You?" he said a little surprised.

Bofur, rather sobered by that speech he had just overheard, smiled a tad sadly.

"I wish I could give you those numbers," said Bofur without waiting entirely to check his speech before he gave it.

Balin smiled back but shook his head with a prompt wave of his hand. "Oh, never mind that. I suppose your cousin is coming."

"Aye," said Bofur, his mind still on the words of Balin's kin who refused him. "I may need another form then."

Balin nodded. "Of course." He said as he handed it to him.

Thanking Balin with a low and humble bow, Bofur said, "I can ask my other cousin Brimur too. He's the last of my near relations who lived with me as a lad as close as a brother."

A thought crossed Balin's mind as he considered this a moment with a bit of reluctance at first, but then determination taking hold again, he nodded. "Aye! Go for it, laddie! It can't hurt to ask; though I'm guessing that if he'd wanted to come he'd've come himself to me already. And twisting arms goes only so far when we want as tight and vigorous a company as possible."

"I make it a duty of mine to refrain from twisting arms," said Bofur, "as well as possible, anyhow. I may have broken that promise already, but I know my kin'll be fighting strong with us if they sign these papers. They've their own will in the matter. If they think it over and won't like it, they won't listen to the likes of my arm twisting." He winked. "They grew up with me, you know."

Balin nodded. "Alright then. Let me know soon if Brimur decides to come."

"Aye! I'll do that."

When Bofur reached his humble family wing that night, he had hoped to find Brimur directly, but he soon learned that Brimur had already gone to bed. He found rather once he went into his direct family's quarters his mother had been waiting for him.

"How could you do it, Bofur," she said. "How could you do it?"

"Do what?" gasped Bofur.

"Oh, you know very well what," she said, throwing her arms around him with a sob.

With a weary sigh, Bofur closed his eyes and stroked his mother's head in return. "There, there," he said. "It'll be alright."

"It won't, it won't," said his mother and would not be comforted. "After all these years from your cradle you've had strong the desire to run off and kill yourself. Leaping right out of your cradle from day one, in fact, and sneaking outside the mountain and to go a-driving your poor old father mad searching you down before some bear or wolf did first. And dragging your brother and Bifur with you. And now you're running off to get killed by a great, ferocious dragon! It's not any different, not even to that poor Bombur and Bifur are going with you. Only now I have not an ounce of power over you whether I had all those years ago to you as a wild and fairy-stricken lad or not!"

"Oh, there, there," sighed Bofur, quite heart-stricken by these words; though his resolve had not changed one bit as far as whether or not he planned to travel of the Lonely Mountain. "Have you no faith in the line of Durin?" he asked in full gentleness. "Have you no faith in your _own_ children?"

"The line of Durin is renowned for bringing death upon themselves and their followers, however much I honor their name," sobbed his mother. "And however legendary our friendship is with them."

"But we'll make it this time, you'll see," said Bofur, pulling away with care as he smiled upon his mother, brushing away a tear from her swollen face.

"But how can you be sure, Bofur? You don't know for sure," she protested, though she was relaxing now.

"Well, of course I can't know for sure, but I have faith in it," said Bofur. "Besides, don't you know? A Wizard is on Thorin's side; and sure he can't guarantee he'll be with us the whole way—"

"What good's a wizard against the likes of a beast like Smaug of that horrid night sung in Durin's Folk's mighty song?"

"He's a wizard!" said Bofur with a grin. "He'll have something up his sleeve for our side. There aren't many of those in the world, after all. He has to count for something, even if only for the fact that he has faith in us himself."

His mother stared at him a moment or two, her eyes still rather red and puffy, and her expression looked as if she wanted nothing better than to say what a fool Bofur was being regardless of some wizard no one knew anything about. "Oh, Bofur," was all she sighed, and closed her eyes in defeat.

"Dear, dear mother," said Bofur, letting her fall into his arms. "It'll be alright. I promise I won't be killed, even if we do fail."

"You can't promise that," said his mother.

"I can, and I hold myself to it," Bofur promised, "and no harm will come to Bombur or Bifur. I won't let them out of my sight."

"Oh, Bofur," she sighed again. "My poor, stupid boy."

"There, there, Mother," said Bofur, patting her back, and kissing her head. "Poor dear Mother. One day when you least expect it, I'll return for you and Dad myself with royal escort back to the restored magnificence of Erebor."

His mother only sighed. "Of course you will, Bofur." And she patted his cheek with a wryness in her eyes as she slowly resigned herself to the fact that she could not stop a Dwarf from doing what he felt he needed to do.

"There's the mother I know," Bofur said, his smile growing.

"I'll hold you to your word," she warned.

"I know."

Thus ended their conversation that night, and Bofur in the morning feeling quite refreshed went straight to visit Brimur before breakfast, convinced that he could have Brimur on his side ready in time for a hearty breakfast and work afterwards.

"No."

Quicker than expected, it seemed would their conversation come to an end, but not in the manner in which Bofur would have liked, for before he even saw Brimur, this single firm word was heard.

"No?" asked Bofur.

"I'm not going, and you won't talk me into it," said Brimur, crossing his arms with firm resolve. "So you might as well forget it."

Bofur smiled. "Come now, Brimur, you mean to tell me you've never felt the song?"

"Yes, I heard and heard many times," said Brimur.

"No, no, _felt_ it, Brimur," Bofur said bounding into the room, with the ends of his hat like a pair of floppy ears springing behind his head. "The strike of the hammers ringing through your chest, the stars and the moon and the sun reflecting from the own fingers from what they wrought themselves, the songs they sung unheard by Elf or Man never strengthens your voice? The roaring of the pines when the evil might of Smaug descends upon the land never puts a blaze to your heart? Brimur, have you no soul?" He paused as he reached out his coin and held it before Brimur and Bofur winked. "But the gold ought to get you if nothing else does, aye? And see this? Imagine this is a leaf of a tree, and then imagine a whole tree and then multiply that tree by—"

"Is that what sort of nonsense you talked when you hoodwinked your own brother into it? Trees and all that? I have a soul, thank you, and plenty have I felt those things," remarked Brimur, "(besides the tree) but it's still their situation, not mine, and I have no desire to walk to my death for a home that I don't need. I'm perfectly satisfied right where I am, and so should you be, and so should they. A dragon's nothing to joke about."

"It's not dissatisfaction," protested Bofur. "I'm perfectly satisfied with my life here."

"Then what is it? Need some excitement?"

"Well, I would be a liar if I said that excitement weren't part of it," Bofur admitted, "but I feel a sense of duty in this situation. We're descendants of Khazad-dûm. Thorin is the heir to the line of Durin. I say where he reigns is my home and no other. And I have no other king but that of the heir of Durin. The Blue Mountains isn't our home. A place of refuge, and a mighty fine one at that, but it isn't our home anymore than it is for the refugees of Erebor."

"Well, if you're going to be that way about it then neither is Erebor their home," remarked Brimur.

"It is if the king feels so, and they made it thus," said Bofur with a grin, which caused Brimur to study him a moment to decide whether his cousin was joking or serious.

Sometimes it was hard to say what he meant and didn't all the time, and to Brimur sometimes he wondered (as now) if the whole world seemed a joke to him, but then Brimur was very angry at the moment, and knew this was not true.

"You just better not get Bifur involved," muttered Brimur. "He doesn't stand a chance against you, you know."

"You give him little credit," said Bofur, but he quickly grew uneasy, lowering his head and shuffling a little.

Brimur rolled his eyes. "You did already, didn't you?"

"Well, see about that," Bofur started to say, but Brimur held up his hand to silence him.

"No," said Brimur. "No. You're always tricking Bombur and Bifur into doing what you want them to do. Bifur's even older than you and you manage it. Just because you can. You have the words that they don't and you could talk them into marching straight off the edge of the earth if you had a mind to it, and that's basically what you just did."

The joy that usually kept Bofur as light as though he had a pair of feet floating on a cloud, now vanished. He looked suddenly quite heavy and even the ends of his hat seemed to droop at these words.

Brimur sighed. "I didn't mean it like that."

"No, I know well what you meant," Bofur said.

"Fine," muttered Brimur. "But I just mean I know you're not mean spirited, if anyone's not, which is irritating for someone trying to stay angry with you."

"Well, that's good to know," Bofur said with a shrug, but his buoyancy had not returned just yet even if the initial heaviness had been relieved.

"They still _chose_ to go with you too," Brimur added, trying to return Bofur to himself, for he could not abide a melancholy Bofur which seemed in most respects an oxymoron. He still spoke with gruffness however. "No one can make a Dwarf do something against his will."

"Aye, true," agreed Bofur, and he smiled. "I'm supposing that means saying you're level head would be a great asset to Thorin's Company wouldn't help change your mind about coming?"

"No, it will not," muttered Brimur with a low glower.

"Alright, alright," laughed Bofur. "But we _will_ miss your company, you know."

Brimur rolled his eyes, but he could not let Bofur leave without saying that he would be a liar if he said he would not miss Bofur.

"But you're sure now?" asked Bofur as he made to leave the wing after breakfast.

"Aye," called Brimur in a warning tone.

Bofur smiled and went on his way to the mines, mattock slung over his shoulder with ease. It was about lunch time when he sought out Balin again. This time he managed to find him rather easily at his quarters, and by the looks of things he seemed to have been in the process of packing and taking inventory of necessities for the journey.

"Ah, there you are," said Balin happily. "I wondered when you'd pop up again. Am I to understand that your other cousin will now be joining us as well?"

"Unfortunately, no," Bofur admitted with a careless shrug as he put down his mattock at his feet and leaned against the handle. "A mountain couldn't move him from here, nor could I."

Balin's face fell. "Oh," he said, looking quite troubled.

"What's wrong?"

"Well, nothing," said Balin. "It's only that since last time you visited we've gathered another member for the company, Dori and Nori's young brother Ori."

"Isn't that a good thing?" asked Bofur.

"Well, yes, I've nothing against the lad even if he is a little uh … green for such a journey, but I might not have let him join us had I known that your cousin isn't coming, and we're setting out in just three days."

Bofur laughed. "Why should that matter?"

"It doesn't matter too much," said Balin a little uneasily. "It's only that without the accompaniment of your cousin, that numbers us at thirteen."

"Ah!" said Bofur, and paused briefly before he said with a smile, "But we don't believe in that nonsense, do we?"

Balin crossed his arms. "Are you prepared to take that chance?"

"Well …"

"I thought so," muttered Balin.

"I'm sure we'll get someone to join us before then," Bofur said.

"I wish I had your optimism, laddie, but I'm afraid that after your cousin that leaves us with no one left to ask, unless you have some other relations that may join us?"

"None that won't know of all this already," Bofur said.

"Exactly," Balin said with a sigh. "But no matter. We'll work something out."

"Won't the wizard count as fourteen?" asked Bofur.

"Gandalf? He's not exactly part of the company," Balin said. "He may not come with us the whole way anyway. He's more of a sponsor than an official member."

"Oh, well, I'm sure Thorin and you will work something out then as you say," said Bofur.

"Hmm …" Balin did not look all too thrilled with the concept of telling Thorin the bad news, but he smiled and nodded. "Only a setback."

"Sure!" agreed Bofur. "Besides, you can't tell someone they can't go, not with the pull of the song as it is on our hearts."

Balin looked strangely at him a moment, a deepness overtook his eyes as he studied Bofur's face as if some personal chord had been strummed inside him. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Bofur, though it was common knowledge that his family was of Khazad-dûm and long ago under the line of Durin's rule, included himself in the saga of the loss and the hope of regaining Erebor more than some of his own people of Erebor had received the invitation.

"Aye, laddie," said Balin. "May our hearts be strong and true."


End file.
